


Cage

by Serai



Series: High Contrast [14]
Category: The Faculty (1998)
Genre: Anticipation, Desire, Frustration, Lust, M/M, Pre-Slash, Slash, Springing the Trap, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 05:51:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4553139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serai/pseuds/Serai





	Cage

.  
It’s been a week, and Zeke hasn’t come near him.

Casey doesn’t see him that much anyway, so it’s hard to say if Zeke’s actively avoiding him. He makes eye contact as he always has, so there’s that. He doesn’t tighten up in biology, the only class they share. The one thing Casey notices that’s different, is that Zeke seems to be smiling more these days, a small relaxing of his mouth that feels private and dark. Casey itches to record it, to capture it, but he has a nagging suspicion that Zeke wants him to do precisely that. That the teasing nature of it is for his benefit, a tiny thread of seduction, and he’s caught by the thought that he might be stepping forward into a trap if he simply does what he’s always done. The world has shifted, and is pulling him with it. Doesn’t the surf do that at the beach? Or so he’s heard – the sand peels away beneath your feet, and you fear you’re not standing on anything at all.

There’s a danger here. He thinks back on those photographs. How long has he been taking them? Mr. Martinez doesn’t really care; so long as Casey brings his own paper, the chemicals might as well get used once the school printing is done. He’s gotten some things that he poured himself into, and now a thought appears that comes near to giving him a heart attack: that Zeke is going to see those pictures. He’s going to see every one, and Casey can’t stop it.

.

Thursday, and Casey stays late to print photos again. Pictures for the drama department from the rehearsals for this year’s effort. Given the budget, _sad_ isn’t a word nearly strong enough, but he got some really nice shots of the students working through the little real direction available. He was just a ghost wafting through it. It was fun.

He stows his photographer’s reference in his locker, and pulls out math and biology for homework. He slams the door shut and jumps a fucking mile at Zeke’s sudden and extreme proximity, leaning back against the adjacent locker. How the _hell_ does the guy do that? 

“Hey,” he rumbles, doing that ducking head thing reminiscent of George Clooney at his ER finest, and taking a drag off the ever-present cigarette smoldering between his fingers. Fuck him, does he have to be so sexy? Why the fuck can’t he just be a garden variety corn-fed hunk, like Stan Rosado? Why does he have to be this long, snaky… _thing?_

“Zeke,” he murmurs, working the lock and trying not to look at him, to look _up_ at him. “What’s up?”

“Yeah, well,” Zeke drawls, apparently not realizing that Casey can hear the tremor at the edge of his voice, “here’s the thing, Casey. Now that I know…” and he rolls first onto his side against the locker, and then languidly reaches his arm over and cages Casey completely against the cold metal surface, “…what are you going to do?” He looks down at him with intent eyes, neither pressing forward nor allowing any push back but waiting, patient, like a panther whose tail is always twitching.

For a moment, Casey can’t breathe, so he holds still and doesn’t do anything for a long minute. Despite his fear, he feels down to his bones that he’s safe with Zeke. The guy won’t talk - he never has, he never will. Everyone knows he’s getting laid, but he’s never said a word about who. Which leaves the girls free to make shit up, but of course nobody dares to ask. He won’t tell, not anyone. Casey’s safe, but he's beginning to think that may be the only way he _is_ safe in this situation.

“Tomorrow,” he breathes. Zeke’s brow furrows, he looks down at Casey’s mouth and does something Casey never forgets – he _grunts_ softly, like a bear or a wolf, and pushes forward at him just an inch through the air. Casey’s mind just shuts off, and he’s suddenly in the middle of a _rut_ , this is what a _rut_ is, this mindless fucking craving. He wouldn’t care if he got expelled, he wouldn’t care if he ended up in fucking _jail, Christ_ he wants this guy. And he’s never been so scared in his life. 

“Tomorrow?” Zeke asks, and then exhales, a dark, shaking breath. He touches his lips for the barest second to Casey’s jaw, and then whispers, “Why should I wait?”

Casey tries to breathe deep. “Both my parents work late on Fridays.” He answers the unspoken question, “Until eight, usually. Sometimes nine.”

Zeke brings his lips close to Casey’s. They skin back to reveal his teeth, and this time it’s not a smile. “Three thirty,” he whispers. “At the car.” He presses all the way forward now, right up against Casey from thigh to chest, and his hands slide down Casey's arms to his wrists. Zeke lets go and takes him by the hips, pushing against him. Casey makes a sound between a gasp and a moan, and something daring takes him. He runs his hands under Zeke’s shirt and over his back, feeling his hot silky skin, moving down to cup his ass. He squeezes, Zeke lunges, and a split second before Casey cries out, Zeke dives into his mouth.

Casey lets go, and falls.

.


End file.
